Rescue
by JournalGeek
Summary: He'd never believed in a future where he was anything better than he'd always been. She never allowed herself to dream about a world where she could do better than she was. Sometimes it takes being rescued to realize you needed saving. "You's showed me a world I never thought I'd deserve." -This is my first fanfic to post, so don't be shy to tell me what you think! :) -
1. Three Things for Certain

There were three things she'd never forget about the night he saved her.

On a chilly, unforgiving November night in Worst Neighborhood, Manhattan, she folded in on herself as the cruel wind bit at her exposed skin. She so desperately wished she could find refuge in a warm building, or snag a blanket from the homeless man sleeping further down the corner, but she knew that would be wasting the night. And Lord knows she needed the money.

Instead she waited, like always, under the dim, well known streetlight- the only one near the infamous alley that blinked- letting the dull hum of electricity lull her into a more relaxed state of mind. She tried so desperately to forget about the sleep she was losing, forget about the food she wasn't eating, forget about the money she wasn't making. Just forget. She always tried to think of better things instead. Tonight, it was that damned streetlight, the single flashing light somehow reminding her of the bigger, prettier ones she'd read about in the papers. Something about the turn of the century leading to newer, better, bigger inventions that were all the rage. The lights shined on a flashier, busier street that was not too far from her own. People came from across the globe to visit New York- the city of dreams, a promise land of opportunity that she'd been deprived of for sixteen years. A scoff escaped her.

No, her world was much different. With the way her life was going, the closest she'd get to "opportunity" was a bedroom that wasn't hers.

There were three things he'd never forget about the night he found her.

On the same chilly, unforgiving November night in Worst Neighborhood, Manhattan, he pulled his vest a little closer in a fight against the gust of wind that suddenly blew against him. He knew he shouldn't be out at this time- no good ever comes from dark Brooklyn alleys in the middle of the night. But cigars didn't come free, and the card games were most exciting in the few hours after midnight.

He tucked away the wad of cash he'd won deep in his front pocket and picked up the pace. He knew Jack was waiting up and would give him another lecture on staying out all hours of the night- he'd be stupid to think anything less. Might as well get in as early as he could. On a second thought, however, the seventeen year old knew the only man who sold cigars to kids his age was just a block over, and the boy's supply was getting fairly low. His addiction won over as he decided to take the detour from his route home. The few working street lights illuminated a familiar enough figure in his usual spot. The blonde exchanged a small chunk of his earnings for three cigars, shook hands with the man, and tucked them all away, one in his mouth, the other two in his back pocket. He pulled out a match from his shirt pocket, scraped it against a wall, lit the cigar, and surrounded himself with a cloud of smoke. He liked the hum that filled his lungs, liked the way it always somehow seemed to take his mind off of more troubling matters. He tucked his cap in a fashion that cast a shadow over his face and continued to walk down the deserted street, hands in his pockets and head in his own clouds.

She had almost fallen asleep sitting under that broken street light. The night was slower than usual, and the street light lullaby wasn't helping her at all. Just when she was about to call it a night, a buggy slowly turned the corner, headlights off. Her heart seemed to sigh with relief as the buggy slowed to a stop, and a man smirked at her. As quickly as her heart raised, however, it sank twice as fast. There must have been some piece of her that was grateful for the slow night, grateful that she wouldn't have to forget anything, at least for tonight. Nevertheless, the world around her spun on, and with a tear rolling down her cheek, she forced herself to approach the black automobile. She convinced herself it was alright. She'd earn what she needed, and it was going to be fine. Now, if she could just forget what she was doing…

He turned the corner just in time, catching sight of the girl he concluded couldn't be any older than sixteen walking up to the passenger's side of a black buggy. Her light brown hair cascaded down her exposed back, her fingers fidgeted under the spotty glow of a humming street light. Of course, with all the kinds of activities occurring at this time of night, he couldn't safely judge what exactly was going on at first. But a closer look gave him what he needed to know. Her revealed legs, the bags under her eyes, the few tears streaming down her cheeks… a surge of remorse for this unknown girl flooded through his veins, and there was no possible way he could let her get in that car.

His feet moved faster than his mind. Without a plan, he approached the girl, tucking the cigar in between two fingers and hoped his mouth wouldn't fail the two of them. Just as she nodded her head at the man and began to pull herself up into the car, the boy snatched her arm and yanked her close to him. A gasp escaped her lips, shocked and afraid. The unfamiliar scent of cigar smoke and mint swirled around her, and she was intrigued, but more alarmed than anything. Her mouth opened to scream, to speak, to cry, to do anything. He knew he had to act quickly.

"Whattaya doin' out here?" he began, "I told ya you's was mine tonight. Was my offer not good enough for ya?"

He held his breath, hoping she'd catch on and let him save her. Her coffee brown eyes widened in fear, silently swearing to herself for seemingly forgetting this deal she'd made with a guy she was almost certain she'd never met. But his grip on her arm loosened, and an intense gaze from his icy blue eyes assured her she was right- she couldn't have met this boy before; she would've committed those gorgeous eyes to memory. So then… what?

"If ya don't mind," the captivating blonde turned to the man in the buggy, "I's called the goil for the night. You can 'ave her some otha time."

The man scoffed, angry features running across his face. The boy racked his mind for a last resort that would get the girl off the hook. With one hand still on her arm, he reached into his pocket for the wad of cash he'd won that night. Keeping up his charade, he rolled his eyes at the man's anger and offered the money over. The man snatched it greedily, counted it, and pocketed it.

The boy snickered, relief flooding his chest. "So's it's settled then. 'Ave a good night, mista."

The man merely nodded at the boy, giving the blonde a sickened feeling. Regardless, he waited until the buggy was out of sight to say another word. As soon as it did, the brunette pulled her arm away from the blue eyed boy, wrapping herself in her own arms. Her chest began to rise and fall too quickly, her fingers fidgeting too frequently. Tears streamed down her face and sobs began to rack her body.

"Hey doll, is you alright?" the boy's voice quaked, "I didn't mean no harm. Is you h-"

"What do you want from me?" the girl trembled, backing herself into the wall behind her as the boy approached her. What did he want from her? Well, he wanted her to be okay. For some reason, he wished she'd let him dry her tears and hold her until she was still again. But one look at the poor girl told him that wasn't an option right now.

"Not a thing, sweetheart," he responded instead, his heart aching for her. She looked at him, unsure. "Honest. I just wanted to save ya. Ya didn't look real happy, y'know."

A laugh escaped her, mid- sob. "No, No I guess I probably didn't." She calmed a bit, let herself ride out the fear as her chest began to move slower. Suddenly, as her fears quieted and she realized the situation for what it truly was, she dropped her arms and sighed.

"Thank you," she nearly whispered, sheepishly, "You- you didn't have to do that."

"Oh, but I did," he replied honestly. He wished he would've given himself a second longer before opening his mouth. "No thanks necessary, miss. Is you alright?"

It took her a beat to assure herself that she was. "Yeah, I just…I don't know... I..." she began to trail off.

Her red-rimmed coffee brown eyes averted his own, yet he was still so captivated by them. He found himself wishing he could get lost inside them and just forget the rest of the world. Instead, he drank in the rest of her, appreciating things most men in her world had ignored without a thought. Her fidgety fingers were small and delicate, smoothing over the hem of her dress that stopped just below her knees. He longed to smooth out her slightly knotted light brown hair. And he nearly did, his fingers itching to reach out and tuck a stray lock behind her ear, when he came to his senses and realized the girl was no longer shaking from fear, but from the unforgiving wind that chapped her bare arms.

"Hey, doll, does you got a place to sleep?" his voice was kind and soft, soothing and quiet. "We's got plenty'a blankets at the Lodging House." The girl nearly jumped at the idea of having a place to sleep for the night. She was so exhausted, and she would've said yes, had it not been for her empty pockets where money was supposed to be. She looked in his eyes, those gentle, bright blue eyes and could hardly force herself to say no. But, for her own sake, she did.

"Aw doll, c'mon. Do I gotta stay out here all night watchin' for ya?" the boy, who was never good at taking no for an answer, insisted. "Please. I knows ya don't wanna be out here. Let me take you home."

The boy reached out to take her hand, a sweet gesture, but one that neither of the kids realized would forever change their lives.

And with that, she simply could not resist.

He treaded his waters carefully, conscious not to overstep his boundaries. As much as he wanted to hold her and warm her up in his arms, he stuck to holding her hand, guiding the way to the Lodging House. And as much as he wanted to stop her and ask her everything on his mind (and there were a lot of things), he just asked,

"Well sweetheart, you got a name?"

The corners of her lips turned up, much to his heart's delight. "Rosie," she nearly whispered, heart lifting at the sound of her real name. "And you?"

"Race," he smiled. "Racetrack Higgins."

"What a name," she breathed. "Is it your real one?"

"It's a name the brothers gave me," he explained, as he had many times before. "The boys give everyone a name. They'll maybe give ya one too, if you're sweet enough." Race winked.

"Huh," Rosie remarked. She was still shaken, still slightly swayed by this boy and his intentions. She pried her fingers out of Race's hand, filling up with the feeling of wanting to disappear. She was scared, nervous, and a little more shy than normal. What did this boy really want from her? And why was she trusting him at all? For all she knew, he could have stolen her from one wolf just to feed her to ten more. She'd given him her true name since birth only to receive a nickname in turn. She wondered if he also happen to share her unfortunate situation… She was so unsure.

Race tried to hide the slight sting of rejection. He nervously placed the cigar back in its place between his lips, letting the hum fill his lungs. He was no stranger to flirting and being rejected by a girl, having experience from trying to sell papes to the beauties from better neighborhoods. But Rosie seemed… different. Fragile. Like she could break if you weren't careful enough. He made a mental note to steer clear of the flirtiness for now. Well, at least until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Race realized he had no actual plan for anything after getting Rosie in a warm bed that night. What would Jack say? He was sure he'd let her stay for the night, but what about the next? Neither of them would just send her back out on the streets. Especially not the streets she seemed to stay around. So then… what?

He turned to Rosie, watching her form fade from tense to tired. He figured he'd get her to sleep, and then have a conversation in the morning.

A few blocks and many footsteps later, they finally arrived at the Lodge. Race took a quick look around to make sure no eyes were watching, then rapped the secret knock. He sighed impatiently, fog and smoke filling the air around them, when he heard the footsteps bounding down the stairs. There was a pause, and then the door swung open. There stood a tired and aggravated Jack, ready to let Race have it.

"For Christ's sake, where the hell were you? I been waitin' all night! The boys went lookin' for ya, where did you-" he turned to see the little brunette at Race's side and took a step back. "Racer, what tha hell!?"

"Ah, give it a minute, will ya?" Race sighed, already annoyed with his friend's energy. "I'll explain. But right now, we needa find this girl a bed to sleep in."

Jack took in the girl before him, shivering and scared. Without another word, he let the two of them in and Race immediately pulled a thin blanket and pillow from a closet near the bunkroom. He took Rosie straight to an open bunk a few beds down from his and pulled the warmest onesie he could find from his drawer.

"In case ya want somethin' a little…" he paused, being oh so careful, "warmer."

She smiled, her own silent form of gratitude, and he let her be.

"Can ya do a pal a favor and explain what's goin' on?" Jack whispered outside once they were both in the hall. Race shut the door carefully, not making a sound.

"She's just got herself in a bit of trouble is all," he explained. "She was shiverin' so hard when I found her, Jack, I couldn't just leave her."

The leader pondered this. "Is… Is she a-"

"Yeah, Jack. She is. But that don't say nothin' bout her, you know that."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "No Race, it don't say nothin' bout her. What I wanna know," his mood shifted as he paused, "is where you been runnin' around all night before ya found her."

Race sighed, running a hand through his curly blond locks. "You know where I been. Papes ain't sellin like they used to and-"

"And what?" Jack interrupted. "You took ya'self to the bar to make up for the loss of it?"

Race sighed.

"Ya can't keep gamblin' in the middle of the night like that, kid," Jack tried with all of his might to convince his brother. "You'll get ya'self caught by the bulls, and then what?"

"Ya lose me. And I'll lose youse guys," Race repeated for the third time this month. Jack's lips pursed in defeat, knowing it wasn't sinking in for his brother. Instead of getting angry, he pulled the blonde into his arms. Race's arms wrapped around his brother, a little unsure, but grateful for the love received.

"I can't lose ya, kid," Jack sighed in his shoulder. "I just can't."

"Alright," Race stopped him, suddenly overtaken by guilt. He knew his choices weren't any real good for him. He could live with that. But when it bothered his brothers, when he knew they could be hurt by his actions, it gave him a sick sort of feeling in his gut that he couldn't quite shake off. "Jack, what're we gonna do with Rosie?"

Jack sighed, which turned into a yawn. "We'll figure something out, kid. Let it wait until the morning."

So Race laid there in his bunk near the window, the moon illuminating his worn out features as he replayed the events of the night over again in his mind. There were words he couldn't quite remember, but there were three things for certain. Those chocolate brown eyes that intrigued him and placed fear in his heart at the same time. He wondered if the red in them had calmed a little since she'd cried. He remembered the hum of the cigar smoke in his lungs, distracting his mind but making him wonder what other feeling he was hooked on. And that's when he realized he was certain of another hum in his body that night. One that sparked in his heart and still hadn't stopped. Thinking about her made it stronger, and he liked it. Could get addicted, even. So he didn't let go until the tendrils of sleep forced him to.

Rosie's mind danced as she began to relax enough to be pulled down by sleep. She was angry with herself for losing a night of pay, and even a little disappointed that she'd trusted a complete stranger, but fascinated by three things that wouldn't stop buzzing through her mind. The hum of the street light lullaby singing her to sleep… but that was too much of a constant in her life to be the thing gnawing at her. She could still smell the mint and smoke, whether from his pajamas or her memory, she wasn't sure. It wasn't strong- just enough to intoxicate her and send her thoughts straight to those eyes. His crystal blue eyes. Seemingly kind and gentle, and Rosie could only hope they were true. Doubt stemmed from her heart like a weed she couldn't pull, but she made a silent promise to herself and to him that she'd learn how… she'd be able to pull it someday. Because those eyes were just too beautiful not to let herself get lost in.


	2. One of Us

**Hey guys! Wow, thanks for the great feedback! It makes me so happy to know this story is well received! :)**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Jersey09:** Thanks for reading! I absolutely love Race, and I'm so excited to write with him as my center! I totally agree with you though, no girl really needs a guy to save her. I don't plan on this being a "Race to the Rescue" type of story, rather, they will both be each other's heroes as the story progresses. But I'll keep that in mind as I write! Thanks so much for the review! :)

 **SomedayonBroadway:**

Thank you so so much! I can't tell you how much it means to me to hear that from you. I'm working on making Rosie really "fit" with the world of Newsies as there is that fine line with OCs. Thank you for reading! :)

 **Fanz4life:** Hey, thanks for checking out my story! Yes, it wouldn't be Newsies without a little brotherhood right? And OMG I LOVE Rosetrack! I hadn't even thought of a ship name for these two and it sounds so great! Rosetrack it is! Thanks for the review! :)

 **ADDITIONAL AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am leaning a little more towards writing Newsies with at least _some_ historical accuracy (as of course, the musical is based off of events that really did happen) so there will be points of conflict in this story that could be easily overcome in other fanfics you may read. Just keep that in mind! I'll try to remember to clarify that when it comes up again. Until then, I hope you enjoy reading and if there's something I can fix or that you wanna see more of, leave me a review! Enjoy! :)**

Rosie wished she could've seen the gorgeous boy in her sleep, but her exhaustion led her to a dreamless night. She awoke, however, to an unsettling group of boys hovering over her. They tried to whisper of course, but their curiosity triumphed over any sort of manners. The boys fought through hushed voices and quiet shoves to get a better look at her.

"She got a name?"

"Jack ain't said. But I get to ask when she wakes up!"

"No, you'll scare her to death!"

"She's real pretty!"

"What's all that on her face?"

"It's makeup, Finch. Ain't you ever seen one before?"

"Hey, get offa me! Ya haven't even had a bath yet!"

As much as Rosie tried to fall back asleep, she simply couldn't ignore the strangers surrounding her bed. Nervousness creeped into her as she began to stir, knowing she'd have to face these unknown boys the very second she opened her eyes. She took a deep breath and began to sit up. Rosie opened her eyes to reveal more than she expected. All of the bunks that were filled the night before sat empty and stripped, their occupants staring at Rosie from no less than ten inches away from her face. The little ones in the back of the small crowd hopped over their elders in attempt to be a part of all the excitement. Rosie's breath hitched as the boys all jumped back a little. Rosie and the boys felt as if they were in some sort of a standoff, each side now afraid to make a move. A red-headed boy reached his hand to her, as though to tell her they came in peace.

"Hiya," he smiled, "I'm Albert. It's nice to meet ya!"

She took his hand and shook it gently. "Hi there," she could only manage to make noise slightly above a whisper, "I'm Rosie."

Race sat outside further down the hall, hearing the excitement but not wanting to be part of it. Although he cared about Rosie and wanted her to feel welcome, Race had more pressing matters to attend to than regulating those boys. He was certain that Jack still had the same heart as the one he did all those years ago when Race was taken in, but he still waited anxiously for the answer to the question he'd been asking himself all morning.

 _Now that she's here, does she get to stay?_

He wanted to believe it was just because he was a decent person and cared about her wellbeing, the reason he was worried so much. That'd make him a good person, right? But he knew himself. It had to be deeper than just that. Race didn't care about every other person he'd walk past on the streets. He was good at keeping to himself and being in control of his emotions. He remembered a time not too long ago when he'd taken Crutchie with him to get something to eat at Jacobi's. Race had had the best week in a long time thanks to a great headline and an even better hand at poker, but it seemed the beggar on the corner hadn't been so lucky. They could hear her stomach growling from five feet away, and while Race was quick to turn the other way, Crutchie desperately begged him to turn back around and help her out. But he didn't. And it wasn't that Race was a bad person. He just knew only two could be fed with the money he had, and he was only willing to share the happiness that resulted from the unfamiliar feeling of coins in his pocket with one of his closest friends. That's all. Right? But he knew Crutchie would have turned around. Crutchie would have sacrificed his time and even some of his meal to help someone. And that was just because of the good Crutch was. But he knew that Crutchie, too, would have whisked Rosie away from her terrible situation, so then what made Race different? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe it was just that. Maybe it was the look in her sad, exhausted eyes. Could it have been the tears steadily streaming down the face that looked sickness in the eyes and continued to climb in the car anyway? Or was it the shame of seeing the young girl, who couldn't have been older than sixteen, force herself to make such an adult decision just to make ends meet? His stomach twisted as he thought of the many nights his mother came home and just held the little five year old him in her arms for what seemed like hours until she'd finally stop sobbing. She, too, couldn't have been old enough to do what she was doing every night. Before he made himself sick with sadness, he decided that was his reason for doing what he did. Because sad lives start young when you're in a big city, and he was going to stop it right there for Rosie if he had a say in the matter.

He ignored the possibility of anything else, like love or something stupid like that. Who needed it? He'd had crushes before, would have flings with girls every now and then. But nothing that he ever really cared about. Nothing that made his heart beat faster or his stomach fill with butterflies. And really, what good was it? He'd never seen love do anything good for anyone. Especially not his mother.

After waiting for what felt like forever, Jack finally appeared and lowered himself next to Race. He said they'd talk in the morning, right? Race was hoping Jack would know what to do. He always did. But after a few moments of silence, Race was beginning to worry that he didn't know. If he had something to say, wouldn't he have said it by now? This couldn't be good.

"I been thinkin', kid," he started, the remorse already evident in his tone.

"No! I'll do anythin', Jack," Race blurted, taken aback by his own urgency. "She don't got nowhere else to go-"

"Hold on, Racer," he soothed, "I'm tryin', kid. Trust me. But you and I both know it won't look good to the guys who own the Lodge, and they won't be happy she's a girl-"

"Wait a minute," Race interrupted, angry at what Jack was implying, "I get what you's sayin' about her being a girl. But whattaya mean it won't look good on the Lodge?"

Jack, a rare sight, shifted as though he was uncomfortable saying how he felt.

"Whattaya tryin' ta say, Jack?"

Jack took a breath. "Racer, she's a wh-"

"You know that don't say nothin' about her!" Race spat, perplexed at where his defensiveness came from.

"It don't! I know it don't!" Jack burst. He took a deep breath to quiet himself. "Look, I know, okay? And I'll make sure they don't think no different of her, either," he gestured to the activity in the bunkroom. Though with Race's vibe, he was sure there wouldn't be much work on his own part making sure the boys treated her fair. "But I know the guys who run the Lodge won't be happy, Race. And I ain't willin' to shed no dignity from them."

"There's gotta be another way," Race slumped in defeat. Jack was right. It didn't matter if the boys saw Rosie for the good Race hoped she was. The higher-ups were the ones who had the final decision. And a brother doesn't turn on his brothers, no matter the circumstance.

"Believe me, I don't wanna send her back out there either. I just ain't got no good ideas," Jack admitted. He crossed his arms, losing himself in thought. And suddenly,

"I got it!"

The boys gazed at her in awe, finally able to pin a name to a beautiful face.

"Rosie, huh? That _is_ a pretty name," a brown haired boy drawled, gawking at her with what could only be described as heart eyes.

"Romeo, cut the flirtin'," another boy smacked him on the head, which led to a tiff between the two.

"So, Rosie, what brings you to the Lodge?" Albert asked. An innocent enough question, sure, but she didn't know how to answer it. Rosie had never taken pride in what she did, and had really never directly told anyone before. She crossed her arms and simply replied, "I just needed somewhere to sleep. Race found me and took me in."

"Oh," Albert nodded, clearly unsatisfied with her answer. One boy muttered something, but Rosie couldn't hear him behind all of the other boys.

"Who asked you!?" a few of the boys replied to the comment.

"Can't you tell?" the defense in his voice making it loud enough to hear, "It's the makeup. Only girls I know who wear red on their cheeks like that is-"

"Yeah," Rosie chirped. Every head turned to look at her. A silence fell over the room as she addressed the thought on everyone's minds. "I'm not proud of it either. But we're all just doin' what we can to survive, right?"

And just like that, she was one of them. Just like that, every single boy understood her and took her for who she was. Not a single soul in the room could say they'd never experienced the desperation that hunger causes. They all knew what it was like to do anything just to make it by. Just like that, every heart made a silent pact to stick up for her, should she ever need it. To treat her as one of their own. And she made a pact within herself to allow it.

Race dug through his drawer, fishing past cigars and matches and paper clips used for holding cash every now and then. He flipped past vests and cards, and vowed to clean the drawer up a bit at a better time. When he finally found it, he breathed in excitement. Race smoothed her hair down and pushed it right on her head, a perfect fit. He couldn't help but beam at her when he saw that she'd looked better than he'd hoped in his very first cap.

"You want me to be a newsboy?" Rosie asked slowly.

"Newsie," Race corrected with a smile. He began to explain the deal he'd made with Jack. "We call ourselves the newsies. And this is where we stay when we ain't sellin' papes. The Lodging House. Lodge, for short. But," he cut to the chase, "ya can't have one without the other."

"I see," Rosie nodded. She tried to put on a grateful smile, but this was all so much for her so quickly. She'd made friends with the other newsies while Race and Jack were in the hall, and she already wanted to love them so much. But here she was, in a home that wasn't quite hers, with family that wasn't quite her own, and a boy who she couldn't quite claim, and she was still so confused. Granted, this wasn't the den of the ten hungry wolves she had feared it could be. She was thankful for that. But could she really fit in that easily? Could she flip her world that quickly?

To top it all off, there was something ingrained in Rosie that even she didn't realize. In her sixteen years of life, there had never been a soul who truly cared for her except herself. Not at the orphanage, not after the fire, not living at her father's, not on the street. No one. Sure, she'd come across the rare gems who'd restore her faith every once in a while. The kind woman who'd bring her sweets from the bakery after a long day of scrubbing the orphanage floors. The doctor who helped her laugh away the pain of the lung damage after the orphanage burned down. There was even the lady who took the same street she did, working during the nights and passing her the money as soon as she got back the day after. But all of these people had proven to be temporary in her life. What made these boys any different?

"I'd love to," she began. Race couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. "But I don't know that that's best."

As quickly as his smile spread, his heart deflated twice as fast. He shook his head, slowly at first, but more desperately as she reached to pull the cap off.

"No," he nearly whispered, his hands overlapping hers as he tried to readjust the hat, gently holding it in its rightful place on top of her soft brown hair, "No, Rosie, how could this not be what's best for you?"

He didn't care. He didn't care. He didn't _really_ care, at least not in the way he was denying he did.

"I just…" she couldn't give a good explanation.

"Look," he began, stroking the side of her face with his thumb. _Why was he doing that? He didn't care. He didn't care. Not like that, at least._ "I know that ain't what you want. I seen it in your eyes. And I's sure you think you don't have no other choice. But you do, and it's here. With us. With me."

Her heart fluttered. _With him. With him. With him._ She felt his eyes on her, glancing over her face, desperately searching for an answer. But she couldn't look at them… she just couldn't. Because then she'd fall, she knew she'd fall right against him and let him fix a mess he didn't make. She'd fall, and trust him for the minute he'd be there just to fall apart when he left. And she would not be that girl.

"You's got the right to a world that's good for ya," he tried, "and it ain't this." As if something else were controlling him, he reached with his thumb and swiped away what was left of the smudged paint on her lips. His heartbeat quickened, and he wasn't sure anymore if it felt threatening or invigorating. He just wanted more.

 _He didn't care…_

She sighed against his thumb, which seemed to linger there a little longer than necessary. She didn't need anyone to save her, and she knew that. But what was her life? Night after night of misery just to get by. Just to keep living. ' _But,'_ she thought of the newsies and how, in only the half hour she'd gotten to know them, they'd proven their brotherhood and high spirits despite their growling stomachs and tattered clothes, _'what good is living if you aren't really living?'_

She pulled away from Race, something new stirring in her heart. Maybe, just maybe, this was her chance to start again, to live a life where she could be cared for.

Rosie adjusted the cap and nodded. It was worth the shot, anyway. What could she possibly lose?


	3. Beginner's Luck

**Hey guys! I'm sorry it's been a few days since I've updated. I'll honestly tell you that I can only update this story as often as school will allow, since I**

 **just got back from break. I promise I'm spending as much time on this as I can!**

 **REVIEWS**

 **sweetpea22packers:** Hey, thanks for reading! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. I'm excited to see where I'll take it as well! :)

 **Fanz4Life:** Thanks for the review! :) as you'll see in this chapter, I am indeed planning on weaving Katherine into the story! All in due time, my friend ;)

 **SomedayOnBroadway:** As always, LOVE getting feedback from you! :) I'd have to agree, I can see how it's hard to get what's really going on in the character's

heads. Because these characters have such traumatic (is that the word?) backstories, I've tried letting their past present itself much slower than I usually

would. A lot of the reason why Race treats Rosie the way he does has to do with his past (and vice versa). But a good portion of it will be covered in this

and the next chapter, so I look forward to your input on that! :)

 **enjoy! :)**

Despite Race's wishes, Jack paired Rosie with Albert as selling partners to get her first day started.

"I want her to sell at least once with every one of us," Jack had said, "then, it'll be easier for her ta find an angle 'n where she sells best." Race pouted at this, unsure of why she couldn't at least spend her first day selling by his side, but said no more as his brother gave him almost a comforting look and turned away. Race's eyes narrowed, trying to decide what the look meant, then realized that his brother was on to him; he knew something was up with Race and his true feelings for Rosie. And if Race still wasn't sure how he felt about her, then he damn sure didn't want anyone else trying to figure it out.

So he sat silently as Albert gave Rosie an old sling canvas tote and led her out the door to the circulation gate. He couldn't help but watch them skip merrily along down the sidewalk. _At least she's happy,_ he thought to himself, her laugh like windchimes carrying from all the way down the street and warming his heart. He smiled as he realized it was the first time he'd really heard it, and promised himself he'd find a way to make her do it again.

Once the two were out of view, Race made his way to the bathroom to get his own day started. The conversation he'd had with Jack set him off to a late start, but he was fine with it. He'd finally get some peace and quiet and a bathroom all to himself, as all of the newsies had already partnered up and headed out. He turned the faucet on, relaxed by the sole sound of the running tap, and splashed some cool water on his face. He brushed his teeth and shaved the slight stubble off of his chin. As he ran a comb through his golden blonde hair, he paid close attention to the way it framed his face, trying again and again to make it look as flattering as possible. He twisted his lips as he thought of the best way to part it. To the left? That's new. To the right? No, same as always. He wanted her to notice him. Spiked up? Combed down? Slicked back? What do girls like best? With a slight sigh of frustration, he turned to the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes had passed. He shook his head, astonished at how quickly the time had flown by and yet there he stood, hair as stupid and messy as when he'd started. He crossed his arms. It usually only took him a few seconds to pass the comb through his hair and be completely satisfied with his look, what was so different today? He rolled his eyes to himself as he realized the answer.

Rosie. It was her. That stupid, pretty, sweet girl had gotten into his head and spun him all around. Rosie, with her soft brown hair that fell just to the middle of her arm and her light brown eyes that seemed to turn a sparkling bronze in the sunlight from his window. Race's stomach filled with butterflies and he bent over the sink, thinking to himself. Maybe he didn't _like_ her yet, but he wanted more of her. He was intrigued by her. He found himself wanting to ask her so many questions and take her so many places just to get to know her. He wanted to know everything about her. He just wanted _her._

But she was so fragile. She wasn't like the other girls he knew who'd just let him flirt with them or would even push themselves on him. She was her very own, and seemed very careful of who she let in. And where Race was often quick to jump on feelings and let things go as far and as fast as a girl would allow, he found himself wanting to go slow with Rosie. He wanted to know all about her, yes, but not the things that a quick night together tells you about a person. This was so unlike him. She was driving him crazy.

Race was soon snapped out of his tornado of thought when Crutchie suddenly appeared in the reflection of the mirror. He jumped and muttered a few curse words to himself.

"Oh, sorry Race," Crutchie began with an apologetic smile, "I didn't mean to scare ya." Race's posture relaxed as he nodded.

"Whattaya still doin' here, Crutch?" Race questioned, "Everyone else left about a half hour ago."

"Yeah, I know. I uh… I don't think I'm gonna make it out. Not today, at least."

Race turned from looking at Crutchie's reflection to his actual face, confused by the shame in his eyes.

"Whattaya mean?" Race asked, "You hardly ever miss a day of sellin'. What's goin' on?" He placed a hand on his poor brother's shoulder as the younger sighed.

"I uh… I ain't been walkin' so good." Crutchie averted Race's gaze. It wouldn't have been a bad attempt at lying, but the oldest knew his younger brother's tell, and it showed itself like a flashing light. Crutchie's head leaned in towards his shoulder, making it obvious he was avoiding the truth.

"Yeah… okay," Race allowed, hoping he'd come to use his words later. "Sorry ta hear that, Crutch. You know if you ever get any trouble I'll soak whoever's got it comin', right?"

"Right," Crutchie nodded, smiling at one of the few people closest to him, "I know, Race. Say, whatta you still doin' here, anyway? Everyone else left about a half hour ago," he playfully mocked his brother's tone.

"Got a late start," Race laughed, going back to styling his hair in the mirror. "I was talkin' ta Jack about Rosie, and it took longer than I thought it woulda."

"Oh? What was ya talkin' bout?" a speculating tone creeped into Crutchie's voice.

"Just what we's gonna do with her," Race replied slowly, Crutchie's shift not going unnoticed, "What was you thinkin'?"

"Ah, nothin'," Crutchie skirted, but smirked before he continued, "I could see it, ya know."

"See what?" Race stopped and set the comb to the side.

"Y'know, you and Rosie. She's come outta her shell a little and she seems real great. I think you two'd make a real fit."

Race sighed in the mirror. Were his feelings really that obvious? He genuinely thought himself to be someone who never wore his emotions on his sleeve. Could everyone tell? Could she?

"Don't worry," Crutchie read his mind, "I don't think any'a the boys's noticed."

With that, Crutchie left, playfully hitting Race's shoulder before exiting the bathroom. Race stared at himself in the mirror, trying to picture the pretty girl by his side.

 _Yeah,_ he thought to himself, _I could see it, too._

Rosie was having an amazing first day. Despite the chill of the late fall, she was flooded with a warmth that could only be labeled as pure happiness. Albert had taught her the bare basics of what she needed to know- never take no as a first answer, and if you have to, come up with a headline- and she had already sold most of her papers for the day. They sat at a booth in Jacobi's for a break and a glass of seltzer, a treat for Rosie's great start.

"I think you's just got a real good case a' beginner's luck," Albert teased. In all seriousness, he didn't know how Rosie went from fifty papes to less than ten in only a few hours. He knew that a few of Spot Conlon's girls in Brooklyn (all three of them) always outsold the boys, but he was sure you could credit that to Brooklyn being a bigger city and the girl newsies being so tough. He wondered what it was that made Rosie such a great newsie so soon. Quickly, he realized it all had to do with her alone- she was such a sweetheart. Her charming smile and personality alone could sell an umbrella to a man in the desert. But as she began to open up, Albert could easily see that she was also funny, persistent, and even a little sassy at times- all great traits to have for a successful newsie. He was glad he could share her first day with her.

"Oh, come on. Beginner's luck?" she rolled her eyes, a smirk playing upon her lips, "Then I guess you had some of that too when you first started. Maybe I'll ask Jack all about it when we get back to the Lodge?"

"Oh, that ain't necessary," Albert laughed. He remembered how it had taken him two months to even get the swing of the whole "selling" thing, and another two to actually sell all of his papers in one day. "You got me. Maybe you's just really good at this, and it's a great thing we snagged ya when we did."

"I'd say so," Rosie smirked. And she had to agree, she was already enjoying the feeling of company again. She'd laughed more that day with Albert and the other boys than she had in the past month all on her own. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with gratitude, not just for a fun selling partner, but for the fact that she wasn't spending her day sad or regretful like she always did. Instead, she was laughing at a deli booth and having fun with a boy she sensed she'd be really great friends with.

"So," Albert began once they got their glasses of seltzer, "Is ya likin' all of this so far?"

She beamed as she set down her glass. "Absolutely! I've had so much more fun today than I've had in a long time."

"Fun? It's freezin' outside!" Albert exclaimed. Of course, he was having a good time too, but he figured the new newsie would have at least _something_ to complain about on her first day.

"Who cares? It's great!" Rosie laughed. In actuality, she was no stranger to the freezing temperatures of an unforgiving winter. For her, having a friend to laugh with when the wind nearly knocked her off of her feet made her forget all about the bitter weather.

"Well, we's real glad ya with us," Albert said, surely speaking for all of the Manhattan newsies. And he was. They all genuinely adored her and eagerly awaited their day to get her as a selling partner. "Me an' the guys, we ain't never had no girl newsie, so it's all a little new. But I's sure you's gonna fit in real well with us."

Rosie was so excited to finally belong somewhere. For the first time, she felt as though there was nowhere else things could go for her but up.

They finished their seltzers and headed back out, eager to continue their day. Within the first fifteen minutes, Rosie had already managed to sell the rest of her papers. Albert was speechless, his mouth gaping wide open as she tuck the last penny in her pocket.

"How _do_ ya do it, Rosie?"

"I guess I'm just a natural," she giggled to herself. She spun the empty sling around her wrist, suddenly at a loss for what to do next.

"I wouldn't get too cocky, darlin'," Albert warned, "beginner's luck wears off real fast."

"Oh, whatever!" she laughed, "Hey, I'll sell the rest of your papes if you want. It'll get us back to the Lodge much quicker."

Albert scoffed in good nature. "Seriously? The new girl's gonna show _me_ how to sell papes?"

"What, you weren't watching before?" Rosie teased.

And again, Albert's stack had been sold within the hour. It was only one in the afternoon, and the two were already done with the day. They walked back to the Lodge, both so happy and proud. Rosie was excited to share the good news with Crutchie, and then Jack as he came in about an hour later. As the boys started to filter back in, word about Rosie's success quickly spread around. Every other group of boys would beg for Rosie to tell them her secret, but sighed in defeat when she'd tell them she had none. Albert was teased quite a bit after the boys found out Rosie sold the rest of his papes, but easily accepted being the laugh of the day if it meant everyone was happy for the new girl who, after their many conversations throughout the day, Albert already considered a close friend.

"Rosie," Jack grabbed the girl's attention as he sat next to her on her bunk. She had been watching the boys tussle with each other and was lost in admiring the love and energy in the room. "How's it goin, kid? These boys wear you out yet?"

Rosie laughed at the thought. "No, not yet," she smiled, "it's going great. I can't thank you enough, really."

"Thank me?" Jack's face scrunched up in light confusion. "What'd I do?"

"Are you kidding?" Rosie laughed, "Race told me about the agreement. I get to stay as long as I earn my keep. And I know it was you who thought of turning me into a newsie. I'd still be shivering on the sidewalks if it weren't for you." Her sudden seriousness overwhelmed her. She wanted to push it away, but she was far too grateful. Jack had to know the depth of what he'd allowed her to be a part of.

"Ah, don't sweat it, kid," Jack easily shrugged off the recognition, but still felt the love. "Just remember to hide if the owners ever come down here."

"I'll be sure to," she laughed at his semi-joke.

Jack just smiled at her. He always loved bringing kids in, giving them a place to call home and a group of people to be family. It was almost too easy for the kids to attach strings around his heart. They were his. And this kid in particular, well, she was nothing like the other ones had ever been. She was sweet, and kind, and sassy enough to take a joke and then dish another one back at you. She was perfect. He could see her growing with the boys, who all already adored her. They all had a certain kind of respect for her that wouldn't come by easily for many. _Almost,_ he thought, _as if she were their princess._

"Well, Princess," her new nickname easily rolling off his tongue, "I'll have to introduce ya to a friend 'a mine real soon. These boy's'll drive ya mad before ya know it."

As if on cue, a little one smacked the leader's back with a pillow from behind. The poor thing didn't know it, but he'd started a war.

"Oh no ya don't, Smalls!" Jack yelled playfully as the child ran away from the fight. "Get back here, you!"

And soon enough, the single hit sent off a chain reaction, boys throwing pillows and roughhousing all over the room. It was a hilarious sight, and Rosie couldn't keep herself from laughing hard enough to lean on the bedpost.

That's when he'd gotten her. Albert had hit her with a pillow so hard that it knocked her to the floor. He'd taken her completely off guard, and quickly turned apologetic when he realized she was on the ground. He wasn't sure if Rosie would be okay with this kind of play and was too carried away to notice. His apologies ceased, however, when she took him by surprise and hit him back twice as hard. No one in the room could stop laughing as they tore away at each other with pillows and blankets.

By the end of the day, Race was still upset about not getting to have Rosie as his partner. He sighed as he walked past Jacobi's, thinking of how nice it would have been to buy her lunch and for them to spend time getting to know each other. _Another day,_ he told himself, _Another day I's gonna get to._ He was in such a mood the entire day, with Rosie running through his mind, that he didn't even sell all of his papers. Two remained in his bag, and he ditched them in an overflowing trash can three blocks from the Lodge so nobody could give him grief for it. He cursed to himself as he took a long drag from the cigar dangling in his mouth. _There goes 2 cents._

The wasted money caused another thought to cross his mind. He'd given away all of his money the night before in exchange for Rosie's safety. Another obscenity to himself. Not that he regretted it, of course, but how was he going to gamble if he didn't have some money to start with? He gave everything he had to the man in the buggy. The only thing he could think of was to gamble with something that wasn't his…

It was easy, but he hadn't done it in a while. So he prepared himself by mentally talking through his scheme. _Pape, Pick, Pocket._

 _Pape._ He went back to the trash can and picked up the cleaner newspaper from the top. He waited for a man in a fancy black coat to get in earshot, tucked his cigar away, then came up with the shmooziest headline he could think of. "Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Oil struck right in the heart of New York City! Get in on the action, folks!" The man practically ran over to Race to get a piece of information on the sudden money mine that was an oil strike. Sucker.

 _Pick._ "Ah, an oil strike you say? Right in the heart of New York City!" the man dug in his front pocket for a coin. Race took the opportunity to search the man with his eyes. He looked for the bump of a wallet, the shine of a money clip, anything. And there, peeking right out of his back pocket, practically begging to be snatched, was a wad of money held together by a silver clip. Now all he had to do was reach…

 _Pocket._ The man didn't even notice. As Race handed him the paper, he snuck the cash into his own back pocket. The man gave him a nickel, and Race almost felt a little bad, but was too busy planning out how he was going to double the amount of his stolen money. He pulled the cigar back out and took another long, celebratory drag. He walked the opposite way home, for good measure, and was relieved when he'd made it to the Lodge without being caught.

Inside the Lodge, the excitement was just beginning to wear down. Race could hear shouting and laughing in the bunkroom, a sound he hadn't taken part of in a while. Hoping to ease his mood and cut loose, he followed the sound.

As soon as Race had walked in, he was taken by surprise as Rosie fell backwards into him. He caught her instinctively, holding tightly to her waist and helping her to stand again. Her once soft hair was a crazy mess and as she turned to him, he could see that her eyes were wild with a living energy he hadn't yet been blessed to see.

"Woah!" she breathed, "Hey, Race!"

"Hey," he whispered in awe. Without him really deciding to, his fingers reached up to tuck her messy hair behind her ear. Suddenly they were both lost in a moment, his hand absentmindedly brushing against her arm over and over and her eyes locked onto his intense blue ones.

"Be careful, Race!" Finch's voice snapped him back to reality, "She bruises real easy!"

Race's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Drawing his hand back only slighty, his eyes broke away from hers as he searched her, looking for the bruise Finch mentioned. There, right on her left shoulder, was a large red circle that took up most of the area. His eyes narrowed, and his mind raced.

Rosie had laughed at the teasing. She knew it was all just from having fun- nobody had hurt her on purpose or with bad intention. But Race wasn't as well informed.

"Who did this to you?" His voice was thick enough to throw Rosie off.

"I… I don't know, really," she giggled, a little unsure. "We were just having fun,"

He took a better look at the room and its chaos. It was surely dying down, but still intense and loud and he quickly understood the accident. A little embarrassed of himself, he brought his hand up to the back of his neck.

"Oh," he nodded. With a slight smile, he brought his eyes back to hers. Suddenly he was in a calmer state, hypnotized by the beauty before him. Her hair was still messy and the high energy in her face was just beginning to wear down. He didn't know how long he'd stood there for, drinking in her presence as if she were the blessed rain in a drought. Race felt the beating in his heart quicken as he counted her nearly nonexistent freckles and realized that the girl he'd been dying to be with all day was finally standing right before him. All he had to do was steal her away. He gingerly took her hand, fingers brushing against hers.

"Come with me," he whispered, unable to contain his excitement. She couldn't stop giggling as he ran her up the stairs, him stopping every few steps to shush her, as if the moment they were sharing was for only the two of them to ever hold.


End file.
